Light's boots scraped against stone as he was dragged forward.
Not gently.
The Wukongs didn't treat him like an honored guest or a prisoner—only something found, something that needed to be shown to someone higher. Their hands were rough, furred, and strong, fingers locked around his arms as if he weighed nothing at all.
The moment he was pushed inside, the air changed.
The space opened into something vast.
A temple.
Massive stone pillars rose toward a ceiling lost in shadow, carved with spiraling patterns and ancient runes that glowed faintly like dying embers. Along the walls stood stone statues—dozens of them. No… hundreds. Each statue depicted a Wukong, but none were the same. Some stood tall and proud with weapons raised. Others knelt. Some bore crowns, others scars.
Ancestors.
Their eyes—chiseled from stone—felt alive, watching him.
Light swallowed.
At the far end of the temple stood a large silhouette, seated upon a raised stone platform. The shadows clung to that figure, making it impossible to see clearly—but the pressure of its presence alone made Light's chest tighten.
The Wukongs forced him to his knees.
One of them stepped forward—the apparent leader of the group, his armor darker, his stance sharper.
"Chief," the Wukong announced, his voice echoing across the stone hall, "we found this being near the God's Lake."
Light's heart skipped.
The lake…
The Wukong continued, "We do not know who—or what—he is."
The silhouette moved.
Stone groaned as the figure rose.
Then, slowly, the chief stepped forward into the torchlight.
Light forgot how to breathe.
He was massive—far larger than the Wukongs who had dragged him here. His body was built like a mountain given form, muscles layered upon muscles, thick and powerful. His fur was darker, streaked with silver. A huge beard, braided with red and black cords, rested against his chest, and his arms were thick enough to crush stone.
He wore flowing silk robes, red and black, embroidered with symbols Light couldn't understand—but felt important.
And his eyes…
Red pupils, burning like embers.
"I am the Chief of Cloudreach Village," the Wukong said, his voice deep and steady, carrying authority without effort. "And who are you, traveller?"
Traveller.
The word echoed in Light's mind.
He stared.
Too much. The size. The power. The fact that this was real.
"Hey," the chief said, his brow furrowing slightly. "Traveller. Are you in there?"
Light flinched.
"H–Huh?" He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus. "Yeah—yeah, I'm okay."
He swallowed, then spoke the only truth he still had.
"I… I am Light."
The chief's eyes widened—just a fraction.
He didn't speak immediately.
Instead, the leader Wukong leaned close and whispered something into the chief's ear.
Light caught fragments.
"…alien…" "…other planet…" "…calls himself human…" "…friends missing…" "…knows our language…" "…creepy…"
The chief straightened sharply.
"You," he said, stepping closer. "Are you an alien?"
The word hit harder than Light expected.
"And how did you come here?" the chief continued. "And how do you speak our tongue?"
Light clenched his fists.
"I… I don't know," he admitted honestly. "I'm confused too. I don't know how I understand you."
The murmurs started instantly.
Growls. Whispers. Suspicious glances.
The leader Wukong stepped forward, hand resting on his weapon.
"Chief," he said coldly, "if you order it, we will kill him instantly."
The words were casual.
Like swatting an insect.
Light's breath caught.
Then—
The chief smiled.
A wide, warm smile that didn't match his terrifying size.
"No need," the chief said, waving a hand. "Perhaps he is only a traveller from another world. Weak, at that." His gaze swept over Light's thin frame. "There is no need to kill someone so… puny."
A ripple of disappointment passed through the Wukongs.
Still, they bowed their heads.
"As you command, Chief."
Light let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Thank you," he said quietly, then looked up. "Chief… I have some questions."
The chief nodded. "You may ask. Speak, traveller."
So Light did.
He told him everything.
About Earth. The mission. The emergency landing.
About the place of vines and thorns, where darkness swallowed the sky. About the night that had no stars. About monsters.
His voice cracked when he spoke of his friends.
"One of them… was turned into a monster," Light said, his hands trembling. "It killed the others. I was nearly dead. When I fainted, I saw a light. And when I woke up… I was in the forest. Healed. No injuries."
The temple was silent.
Some Wukongs looked shocked.
Others scoffed quietly.
But the chief listened—expression unreadable.
Light continued, his throat tight. "That forest was different. The sky was dark. No moons. No stars. Just… nothing."
The chief suddenly threw his head back.
"Hahahaha!"
The laughter boomed across the temple, echoing between stone walls.
"A dream!" the chief roared. "You were healed? And the night was pure darkness?" He laughed harder, clutching his stomach. "Ahh—my stomach aches!"
The Wukongs watched in silence.
Light didn't laugh.
"Traveller," the chief said, wiping a tear from his eye, "our nights are more beautiful than our days. We have two moons—one red, one blue. Some nights one appears. Some nights both. And our sky is filled with stars."
Light's head spun.
"So… it was a dream?" he whispered.
Was it?
His chest tightened as memories flooded back—screams, blood, Iris reaching for him.
"Maybe…" he said weakly. "Maybe it was."
The pain was too much.
He lowered his head.
"…Okay. I think it was a dream."
The chief nodded. "Good. Then rest easy."
He turned and gestured to a servant Wukong. "Take him to a room. Show him our village. Explain what he needs to know."
The servant bowed. "Yes, Chief."
As Light was led away, the leader Wukong stepped forward again.
"Chief," he said quietly, "why allow him to stay? He may be a threat."
The chief chuckled. "A threat?" He glanced at Light's retreating figure. "He is weak. Let the small one stay. It matters little."
Laughter followed.
Light didn't hear it.
The village was carved into stone and trees, bridges of woven roots connecting platforms high above the ground. As they walked, Light finally spoke.
"So… are you guys immortal?"
Hajun stopped abruptly.
"What?" he asked, shocked.
"Never mind," Light said quickly.
"No—we die," Hajun said seriously. "After about two hundred years."
"Oh," Light muttered. "In my world, Wukongs are immortal. But only in fiction."
Hajun's face twisted into something between confusion and disbelief 😅.
They continued walking.
Then Light's hand brushed against his pocket.
Something was there.
His heart skipped.
Slowly, he pulled it out.
A small, worn ID card.
Iris's name stared back at him.
Her face.
Frozen in time.
Light's vision blurred.
His knees nearly gave out.
The dream…
…had never been a dream.
End of Chapter-6-